The Rocking Chair

Forlorn as a withering rose, The years in every wrinkle etched. A crippling frame, head to toes, Ramshackle porch to match. An old man, rocks back and forth, Staring steadfastly into the eve, His ailing years of little worth, The sublime sunset a mere reprieve. Contemplating a life well worn, Exuberant youth a distant past. His aches forged through duties sworn, A life succinctly fading fast. Resigned, fulfilled with aching heart, A partner lost this past ten year. Far too many years apart, Engrained in each and every tear. The sun cascades on wind torn porch A silence echoing the fact, That embers of his dying torch Will fulfil a reuniting pact.